


Cold Shivers

by shark_snark



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Fluff In The End, M/M, Sick Character, misunderstandings but not very dramatic, the knights dont play a very big role but they are there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shark_snark/pseuds/shark_snark
Summary: Arthur had grown used to taking Merlin with him whenever he went on hunting trips, mainly to tease him for his lack of skills in stealth, agility and repelling any type of common cold. Every single time they spent several days out in the forest stalking after deer and rabbits, Merlin ended up catching some kind of minor illness. It had even become a running gag among the knights, and Arthur really enjoyed joking about it with them together. That was until Merlin caught something more than just a common cold.--rated T for language (exactly 1 utterance)
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 266





	Cold Shivers

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm 12 years too late to join the fandom and do so by publishing a story with a more experimental writing style. Man am I gonna leave a great impression! (not.)  
> By 'experimental' I mean: scattering adverbs everywhere and not particularly fixing repetitive patterns. As a non-native speaker, I don't really know if that makes the writing sound "worse". I just wanted to try it out :)  
> (Also, almost every line of dialogue is some form of bickering lol) 
> 
> Anyway, Arthur & Merlin are already dating in this one but keeping it a secret. But the knights already know. 
> 
> Have fun reading & thank you for stopping by!

They had been out hunting deer for not more than one single night, so the knights were still joking when they complained about how much further out into the woods they had to wander. Merlin, however, was already shivering. The warmth of the horse beneath him barely seeped through his trousers, the saddle shielded it from him as well, which made him feel much colder than a lake’s frozen surface in the middle of winter. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was still breathing, blowing air into his clammy hands to warm them just the slightest bit, Merlin would have truly felt he was a sculpture made of ice rather than a human made of flesh and blood.

“Don’t be such a wimp, Merlin!” drawled Arthur in a tone that sounded annoyed to anyone who did not know him. To the knights it was just a teasing jab, some friendly banter they were used to seeing between their King and his most loyal servant. “It’s not even that cold yet!”

“Yeah, _yet,_ ” mumbled Merlin, rolling his eyes. “But at night, I’ll be freezing to death for sure.”

Arthur turned around, while still steering his horse forward, and threw a pointed glance at him. “You won’t freeze to death.”

The way he emphasized the word _death_ and not the word _freeze_ was, to Merlin at least, an acknowledgement that he would indeed be freezing and feeling helplessly cold, as always. To build character, of course, and immunities. How comforting.

Just as Merlin was about to retort something, Gwaine came up beside him and purposely nudged his horse. His face was less contorted into arrogant teasing like Arthur’s, but he was still grinning as if to make fun of him. “He’s right, you know?”

Of course he was right. Technically Merlin knew he would not freeze to death in the middle of summer. But he felt like it. Cold shivers were running down his spine, his fingertips felt stiff around the reigns, and trembles rocked his thighs. If it was this bad during the day already, he really did not want to wait for nightfall. That Arthur and Gwaine were making fun of him because of that only made it worse. And so he kept to himself, sulking for the rest of the journey instead of engaging with the task at hand. He didn’t like hunting anyway.

His sulking was treated with just as much pettiness: they were ignoring him. Well, not completely, as all of the knights were still including him in their bantering and chit-chat. But Arthur? Didn’t so much as look at him once. Didn’t talk to him either. Not until they made camp for the night and Merlin was ordered to prepare their dinner. As always. He wasn’t angry, nope, not hurt either. It was totally fine that Arthur was joking around with the knights while Merlin was kneeling in front of the campfire, distributing soup into different bowls. That really wasn’t what bothered him, he was a servant after all and had to admit that he quite liked the job, but he was just so damn cold and neither the soup nor the fire in front of him could change that.

It was Gwaine, who bumped his shoulder against Merlin’s and smiled. “Need yourself a cuddle buddy for the night? Someone to hug you close and keep you warm?”

“Oh, wow, thank you!” replied Merlin in a voice that was such an unnatural and forced nuance of polite, he would have been put in the stocks for talking to a knight like that had he been just any other serving boy. “I didn’t know you were offering!”

“No, not me,” said Gwaine and stuck his chin in Arthur’s direction. “Princess is.”

Arthur rolled his eyes at that and stated firmly, “I will _not_ cuddle Merlin to sleep.” 

“Of course not,” agreed Sir Leon but had a hard time muffling the chuckle bubbling in his throat and keeping down the redness dusting his face.

Merlin had the distinct hunch that Leon _knew_ , that _all of them_ knew just how much the thought of Arthur cuddling him would flush his cheeks and warm his ears. Sadly, the rest of his body remained ice cold and the shaking did not stop either. He was, however, allowed to take the spot closest to the campfire when everyone spread out their bedrolls later. While he appreciated it, it did not help too much. Soon everyone was asleep, snoring happily, except for Merlin. Shivers still kept wrecking his body and made his teeth chatter to the point of almost biting off his tongue. He did not know how he was supposed to fall asleep like that. And apparently, he wasn’t the only one struggling to find some rest.

“Merlin,” grumbled Arthur, sounding tired and annoyed, “stop that with your teeth!”

“Well, if I were in my bed where it’s _warm_ , maybe I could!” retorted Merlin, teeth still clinking.

He heard some rustling, and then noticed Arthur walking over to where he was nestled on the ground. For a moment he suspected he would hit him across the head, knock him out to _make_ him sleep, but instead he felt a fabric being draped over him. It wasn’t very heavy or thick enough to genuinely warm him up but it was soft and distinctly smelled like Arthur. The gesture was sweet and tender, and though Merlin’s body still remained cold, at least his soul blazed with little sparks of warmth.

Arthur’s voice was just a whisper when he said, “We won’t return to Camelot just because you feel a little cold.”

Merlin scoffed and turned away from him, sounding much more biting than he originally had intended, “You wouldn’t return even if I was dying.”

Even though he knew that he was just bitter from feeling frozen to the bones and maybe a bit embarrassed, too, he could not help but blame Arthur. It was him, after all, who took Merlin to those stupid hunting trips time and time again, despite knowing how much he hated them. Despite knowing he _always_ fell ill during them. Was he really that disregarding of his health? Did he not care at all? Merlin knew that his own thoughts were a lie, because Arthur had done things specifically for his wellbeing more than once. If he was in danger, he would do everything for him, make it more bearable, get him to safety even if that meant putting his own life at stake. And yet, Merlin felt the cold creep not only through his body but also felt it close around his mind. All of this was Arthur’s fault.

“You’re not dying!” he barked as his hands smoothed over the piece of fabric and tugged at it until it securely covered Merlin’s shoulders. After a moment of silence, he tended to the fire, stoking it once again. His voice was much less angry, almost bordering a gentle whisper, when he added, “We’ll stay in these parts of the forests and return upon the first successful kill. Rest now, and get warm.”

Merlin didn’t feel any different the next morning. In fact, he felt as if he had indeed become a statue of ice, his shivers had turned into full on trembles and he wasn’t sure he could still move his toes and fingers. He barely noticed Gwaine’s hand on his forehead, did not realize everyone was already up and readying the horses, clearing out their little camp. What he did recognize, though, was the fabric wrapped around him like a blanket – Arthur’s cloak. He weakly tried to tug it tighter around himself and willed his jaw to stop quivering so much. The sound of his own teeth smashing against each other started to get annoying even to himself.

“Princess is worried because of your fever, so we’re returning to Camelot,” explained Gwaine and gave Merlin a gentle nudge. “Think you can ride?”

He shook his head. Nothing felt to be in his capabilities at that moment, but a piercing remark danced on the tip of his tongue. He kept it to himself, Percival helped him up and onto a horse, and Gwaine remained close to him at all times. Their journey back was slow and exhausting as Merlin kept nodding off a lot. Arthur had also grown more agitated and his teasing jabs had turned into angry commands, spurring them to go faster until it was so dark outside that he _had_ to calm down and admit they had to make camp once again. There was no use in riding through the night with a Merlin who was swaying so much he almost fell off his horse even when it was standing still. The preparations for the night went smoother and much faster than they usually did. Mainly because they all worked together rather than having Merlin do everything for all of them. Gwaine and Percival were collecting firewood as Leon and Elyan got their horses tied and covered, even Arthur helped setting up the fireplace and food and sleeping bags. Merlin, this time, was just sitting down and curling deeper into the cloak, watching the knights scurry along. It’s not like they had never helped before, everyone always did their part. It just so happened that being a servant and all, Merlin usually had the biggest part in everything that was considered, well, a servant’s job. So when Elyan started the fire in front of him and smiled, he smiled back with a thankful glimmer in his eyes.

“Here, you’ll feel better soon,” said Elyan, patting Merlin’s arm.

That indeed made him feel a little better if only for the fact that being cared for by the knights, _his friends_ , was a reassuring change of pace. Not that he ever felt as if they did not care about him, but doing it so openly was still a rarer occurrence, particularly for Elyan, who he’d only become close to thanks to Gwen. Even though he appreciated his warming words, cold shivers still ran down his spine and sweat coated his forehead, face as pale and ashen as a ghost’s.

Gwaine was the one to help him onto his bedroll next to the campfire, and pulled the cloak tighter around him as if it was the warmest, wooliest blanket in all of Albion. But it wasn’t. And Merlin was still cold, shivering and trembling, curling in on himself. The knights and Arthur watched him for a while, keeping themselves from so much as even thinking about sleep.

For Gwaine was one of his closest friends, Merlin expected the worry and the guilt etched onto his face. He knew it wasn’t pity, knew it was genuine concern instead because he could not do anything to help his friend. And that was worse than pity, in Merlin’s opinion, as he’d never wanted to inflict such pain to those he cared for.

He could feel Elyan’s gaze on him as well, who probably thought of him as one of the sturdiest servants in all of Camelot, due to all the things Gwen must have told him about their work. At some point he’d have to tell the poor lad – and Gwen – that he was not actually scrubbing all the floors and polishing all the armor, along with Arthur’s daily tasks, in one sitting all on his own. Magic was a helpful friend for that. But apparently not a helpful friend regarding illnesses.

Percival, too, watched him with the eyes of a broken puppy, just because that was how kind of a man he was. Merlin almost didn’t remember when they had become so close that the worry on Percival’s mind would be for him, but then again maybe it had always been like this. He really wished he would have cared a little less for him, to spare him the misery.

In that sense at least Leon did Merlin a favor, as the concern written all over his face was meant for mostly Arthur. They had known each other ever since Arthur was a child, so out of all the knights Sir Leon probably was the most loyal one to him, and made each of his king’s concerns one of his own. And considering Arthur’s quiet demeanor, Merlin was the biggest concern of them all in that moment. He looked so deep in thought that Merlin wished to reach out and smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead, take all his worries away with a simple, stupid retort. But nothing came to his mind because it was just as frozen up as his limbs.

“We need to do something,” said Percival finally.

The sigh that cut through the silence was not exactly annoyed but certainly not happy either. Rustling sounded around Merlin, movement very near to him, clinking and the distinct singing of a sword being pulled from its sheath.

Then, coming out of nowhere, Arthur’s deep and commanding voice, “Help me out of my chainmail.”

For a moment Merlin thought he was the one being addressed but with how sick he felt, he could barely turn around in time to reply and tell him off. Instead it was Sir Leon, who voiced the surprise that had taken over them all. “Sire?”

“Just do it, Leon.” The eye roll was a hard one. Merlin did not have to see it to know. Maybe it made him smile a little, imagining the annoyed but also fond look on his King’s face that showed whenever he was around the knights, his most trusted advisors, his _friends_.

Once he was ridden of the heavy chainmail, Arthur settled down sideways on his own bedroll, right next to Merlin’s, and lifted his arm, making beckoning motions with his hand. His gaze was locked with Merlin’s, who looked at him over his shoulder and only slowly turned towards him.

“C’mere,” he clarified as if it hadn’t already been apparent what he was trying to do.

Still, Merlin replied with a question, voice raspy and a little brittle, “what?”

All eyes were on them, they both knew, and yet Arthur seemed not even half as uncertain as Merlin was. He was being bold and _poised_ , completely ignored the way Gwaine stared and gaped at him, and gave a little nod when Merlin still hesitated, looking at him with a tentative and even a little bashful twinkle in his eyes.

“I’ll help you keep warm.”

That was all it took for Merlin to finally lunge forward and nestle against Arthur’s chest, letting him drape his arm over him and cuddle him close. For warmth only, of course, he’d have to tell Gwaine later. He could imagine his smug face way too well, his teasing voice to rub in how in the end Arthur _did_ cuddle him to sleep. It relieved him of his frozen state almost immediately.

Even though the knights did not say anything, Arthur could hear their expressions. Yes, _hear._ He could very clearly hear all the questions thrown at him through raised brows, could very clearly hear all the threats stabbing at his back like freshly sharpened knives. His knights might have been loyal to him to a fault but he knew that all of them were loyal to him only second. They were loyal first to Merlin. He, too, was loyal to Merlin first, and Camelot came second, so he supposed it was alright for his knights to feel the same. He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

When they reached Camelot at last, Merlin was dropped off at Gaius’ place first and immediately treated for his fever and everlasting, numbing cold. Knights and king were shooed off – and Gaius remained entirely unimpressed by their protests – for Merlin needed rest. Plenty of rest in his warm and fully blanketed bed. At least it felt warmer than the forest ground, despite it just being a worn mattress and a thin blanket. And Arthur’s cloak.

As Gaius was putting together a potion, he informed Merlin of what he thought was going on with him; it was more than just a simple cold this time. “I have noticed your tendency of catching colds whenever you are to go on a hunting trip with the king.”

Merlin let that sit with him for a few seconds and tried to decipher the encrypted meaning of it. He was not sure he was getting it, so he asked with his lips pressed together and his eyes squinting at the old man, “Are you saying I’m falling ill on purpose?”

Stopping in his tracks, Gaius turned to look at him and shrugged, “Well, are you?”

“No!” he protested and sat up in his bed. “How would I—”

Gaius returned to the small vial in his hands, continued with his thoughts without giving Merlin a chance to say anything more.

“You’ve never had any problems when it was an important quest you were after,” he mused, swirling the liquid around in the vial, “and if it’s Arthur’s life you are protecting, you won’t let a common cold stop you from that either.”

Before he could protest again, Gaius silenced him with a look, pinning him down into the mattress of his bed with his infamous eyebrow. “I think you’re poisoning yourself with your own magic.”

“What?!”

That was ridiculous. Poisoning himself with his _own_ magic? Was such a thing even possible? For him? For Emrys, the most powerful warlock to ever walk the earth? Merlin was unsure about a lot of things, but he was sure that his magic was _not_ a poison, least of all to himself. That was absolutely not what was happening.

“Not willingly, of course,” continued Gaius and inclined his head to one side. “You hate hunting and your magic reacts poorly to it.”

Perhaps it wasn’t as ridiculous. Well, it was, considering that Merlin had no control over it and that it was stupid, but maybe it wasn’t as impossible as he had thought initially. Still, it only spurred on Merlin’s anger.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” he half-yelled, frustration coating his tone. “Tell Arthur he can find a new servant for his stupid hunting trips? Why don’t I ask him to sack me entirely?!”

“Merlin,” his mentor started with obvious sympathy, but was interrupted by a sound coming from the door.

There in the doorway stood Arthur, who had cleared his throat awkwardly and looked positively anguished. He swallowed down whatever he had had on his tongue before, steeled himself, and nodded. He did not take a single step further into the room, just looked away as if he was about to leave without saying anything at all but then focused on Merlin.

“If that is what you desire, then I’ll find a new servant,” he announced, voice cold and distant, just like a king would talk to any other servant, without any humor when he added, “You weren’t very good anyway.”

He turned to leave, and Merlin’s heart was pounding heavily, every muscle in his body willed him to move, jump out of his bed, stop Arthur from exiting his room with that frown, from finding another servant, from sacking him. He wasn’t just another servant that could be replaced, had never been. But his body didn’t work the way he wanted, exhaustion pulled it back into the bed, leaving him flailing around, fumbling for the right words to say. Gaius only let his eyebrow speak, to both of them.

When Arthur looked over his shoulder at the rustling sounds, he seemed dejected, sad and hurt, unlike anything he’d ever let show on his face before. “But I won’t be looking for a new friend. I expect you to be back in the castle as soon as you are well.”

The words lingered even after he had left, and Gaius’ eyebrow surely reached new heights that night. Merlin fell back onto his pillow and felt a very different kind of cold wash over him. That was not at all what he had desired. In the slightest.

The next morning was slow and unusual for Arthur as it was not Merlin who came bumbling into his room with a spring in his step. It was not Merlin either, who giddily opened the curtains and shooed him out of his bed with happy babbling he barely understood in his sleep-drunk state. It was no one. Arthur dragged himself out from under his covers, changed into more suitable attire on his own, and then stood staring out of the window. He wasn’t entirely sure what to think of Merlin’s request to find himself a new servant because there really was no need. Merlin, while clumsy and not very good at being a servant, was still the best he’s ever had, even if only for the fact that he had become his friend, a person he trusted with everything. Not that Arthur would ever admit to anyone that a mere servant was the person he most confided in. But Merlin was not a mere servant to him. He couldn’t just replace him. No one could ever fill the space he’d taken in the castle, in Camelot, as the physician’s apprentice, as his manservant; no one could ever fill the space he’d taken in his heart.

His thoughts came to a sudden halt when the doors to his chambers burst open and no one other than Merlin came stumbling into them. He was panting harshly, his forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his legs were shaking so much he had to hold on to the door for otherwise he would surely have collapsed. He should have known. He should have known that he would not rid of him so easily.

Seething anger crawled up Arthur’s spine at how much of an idiot Merlin was for coming to his chambers when he still so obviously did not feel any better. He tried to keep his voice leveled when he reprimanded him, “You should not have come here!”

“Of course I should have!” argued Merlin, let go of the door and set himself upright, though his knees were still wobbly. “I am your servant, sire!”

“Merlin,” said Arthur, incapable of keeping the worry from seeping through, “you need to rest.”

“No, I can still do everything!”

To think that the day would come where Merlin was not complaining about never getting a day off and instead would practically beg not to get any free time. It would have been quite hilarious, had it not been for his dwindling health.

He rolled his eyes. “You can barely stand.”

And that only spurred Merlin on. He took a few strides forward, confident and surprisingly stable, but before he could reach Arthur one of his knees gave out and he tripped. The cold stone tiles were getting closer by the second until Arthur’s arms closed around him and kept him from actually making contact with the floor. Despite Merlin’s protests and weak struggling, he dragged him towards his bed and all but dumped him onto it. His hands were firm on his shoulders, pressing him into the soft mattress and the fluffy pillows, his gaze just as resolute when he looked Merlin in the eyes.

“Rest.”

He did not expect the gloomy look and how small Merlin appeared in that king sized bed, so Arthur sighed, “I don’t think of you as incompetent for being ill.”

At that, Merlin visibly perked up, all bright and happy and _warm._ “You don’t?”

“No,” he said with a smile they had both been well acquainted with since day one. “I think of you as incompetent for coming here when you have clearly not recovered! What were you thinking you…” Fool. Idiot. “… clotpole!”

“Hey, that’s my word!” laughed Merlin, and shimmied under the covers, getting comfortable on this bed that wasn’t his but just as familiar as his own.

“Yeah, fits you perfectly.” Arthur rolled his eyes but it was a distinctively fond gesture, one Merlin had seen one too many times.

“Arse.” He said it just as fondly.

The sudden softness did not disappear from Arthur’s face, even when he stood again and readied himself for the day. “Stay in bed today, okay?”

“Yes, sire!”

They both laughed, and then Arthur left the room to attend his kingly duties and tell Gaius where to find Merlin in case he needed to take a potion or whatever. He trusted the physician to know what would heal his foolish servant.

Later that evening, Merlin was still buried deep under the covers in Arthur’s bed. Gaius had visited him once with a potion and a meal, and Gwaine had poked his head into the chambers as well. Both of them had been teasing, raising eyebrows and the corners of their lips at the fact that a servant was staying the day in the king’s bed. Not like they minded. Not like they hadn’t already known of their special relationship. Not like Merlin felt particularly uncomfortable about it. The thing that made him uncomfortable, or rather than that just very _awkward,_ was Arthur crawling into bed right next to him. He had expected to be shooed away, sent back to his own room in Gaius’ quarters. But he wasn’t. He was still in Arthur’s bed, warm and cozy and flushed, while Arthur himself was very nonchalant about undressing, changing into his nightclothes and laying by his side. It wasn’t their first time being physically close or emotionally invested in the other, but lying side by side in Arthur’s bed was a form of intimate they had not yet experienced.

At first, silence stretched between them and Merlin shuffled around to find a comfortable spot far enough away to escape the heat radiating off of his king’s body. Arthur watched him closely, seemed to be thinking about something of grave importance, and after some long, endless seconds, voiced just what it was about.

“Do you really hate hunting trips so much?”

This wasn’t just about the hunting trips, Merlin realized instantly. This was about him hating them so much that he would consider _quitting_ being his manservant, would consider leaving his side. It was more personal, more about their bond, how deep it truly ran. He swallowed, but then decided to make this lighter, easier.

“I hate them more than anything.” He agreed. “I’d rather scrub the floors and polish all the armor in the armory.”

Arthur did not miss the chance, a hint of a smile tugging on his lips. “Hmm, I guess the armor could need some more polishing. What a great coincidence this is actually your job!”

A dry laugh escaped Merlin’s throat and he shook his head. “No, oh no no no.”

“Oh yes, Merlin,” drawled Arthur, sounding as much amused as he sounded teasing, “You’re my manservant and are to do as I order!”

“You know I never do,” he retorted and even allowed himself to elbow Arthur in the chest playfully.

The scoff that followed was gentle, much like Arthur’s eyes and his fingers brushing against Merlin’s cheek. His voice stayed barely above a whisper as he asked, “Are you still cold?”

The cold shiver that ran down his back this time felt more like calming tingles than icy needles in his back. He didn’t know what exactly it was – the adoring smile, the tender caresses, the admission of their closeness which they had previously kept a secret even from the knights, but it pooled somewhere deep in his stomach, warm and comfortable. Still, he rolled onto his side and rested his head on his hand, fake worry falling over his features.

“Now you’re being too concerned, who are you, where is Arthur and what are you doing in his bed?” He asked and pressed his lips into a thin line.

Arthur rolled his eyes again in that specific way reserved for Merlin only, fell back onto his back and exhaled a deep and fondly annoyed sigh. “And you’re calling me the prat.”

“No, I’m calling you an imposter,” corrected Merlin and gave him a small nod, his eyebrows still drawn together in his oh so obviously feigned concern.

When he heard his name this time, it was only a mock of a threat, the glance thrown at him only an imitation of true menace. It made his lips curl into a smile, made him reach out and plant a kiss on that stupid grin stretched across Arthur’s mouth. At least he welcomed him with open arms and so much affection Merlin almost forgot he had ever felt as if he was freezing to death on the cold forest floor.

“I do feel really warm and cherished now,” he admitted, and despite the headbutt into his chest Arthur cuddled him close with a pleased smile, unbothered by what his knights would have to say. Probably only teasing nonsense anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit:  
> this fandom is amazing. you all are amazing. I’ve uploaded this story a little over a week ago and it has already been read by so many people! (compared to everything else I have written so far anyway)  
> Thank you everyone, particularly to those who left kudos and comments. You’ve made my week with your generosity!


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